Family Portrait
by la lisboa
Summary: All Emma's ever wanted is a family. Will she find it with Mary Margaret? A series of vignettes of missing Emma/Mary Margaret scenes from several episodes. Final chapter features moments from the final four episodes of the season.
1. Warmth

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Once Upon A Time; alas, my life is no fairy tale.

**A/N:** Thanks to my incredible beta Melissa for her always pertinent advice.

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><p><em>i.<em>

There's a soft knock on the door followed by a tentative, "Emma?"

"Come in," she calls.

The door swings open and Mary Margaret enters, a nervous smile on her face. "Here," she says, holding out a thick white blanket and a towel. "I thought you might like these."

"Thanks," Emma replies, taking them from her to set down on the bed.

"I'm sorry it's not much," Mary Margaret begins quickly, gesturing to the room. The walls are bare, some sort of painted brick. The furniture is sparse, but adequate: small dresser, night stand, lamp. White is the dominant color. "I mean, it's a bit small – I don't have many guests, well, actually any guests, ever, so there wasn't much need for a larger room. But if it's too small, you can-"

"Stop," Emma cuts her off. "I've seen much worse." A second later, she realizes her mistake. "Not that there's anything wrong with this room. It's perfect. Thank you so much. I really appreciate you letting me stay with you."

"Are you sure?" she asks nervously.

"Of course," Emma assures her. "Without you, I'd be sleeping in my car."

Mary Margaret stares for a moment. "I meant the room. Are you sure the room is okay?" Her face is full of anticipation, an eagerness to please someone she doesn't even know that well.

Emma smiles at her, and Mary Margaret's entire body seems to relax. She cannot help thinking that they have the same set of the shoulders.

"It's perfect."

_ii. _

"Here," she murmurs, pushing the hot mug against Emma's hands. "You should drink something."

"I'm not thirsty," she replies automatically. She cannot even bring herself to wrap her fingers around the mug and take it from Mary Margaret.

"Okay," she concedes. The mug is set on the table in front of them. Emma can smell the cinnamon wafting from the warm steam and she finds herself marveling, for the umpteenth time now, how their taste for cinnamon in hot chocolate is one of the only things she has in common with her own mother.

"You can go to bed if you want," Emma mutters. She figures it must be three in the morning by now.

"That's all right," Mary Margaret says sincerely. "I'd rather stay up with you."

It's these words, more than anything else, that bring the tears to her eyes. She knows she hasn't allowed herself to grieve properly yet, but she still hasn't processed all that has happened. The moments flash before her mind's eye over and over: Graham falling to the ground clutching his chest, his dying eyes finding hers for the last time as she screamed his name. He was dead before the paramedics arrived. They said it was a heart attack.

She sniffs, trying to keep the tears at bay, but instead they come and she can't stop them. The pain rips through her chest and she lets out a sound like a wounded animal as she wraps her arms around herself. Her shoulders shake as she cries.

She expects Mary Margaret to say something, but she stays silent, for which Emma is grateful. She feels a hand on her back, tracing soothing circles. Suddenly she craves more contact, feels an overwhelming desire to be hugged. As though having read her thoughts, Mary Margaret wraps her arms around her and draws her close into her chest.

Emma cannot ever remember being held like this.

_iii. _

"Hey."

Emma looks up. "Hey," she says back. She feels awkward suddenly; she has not anticipated Mary Margaret still being awake when she returned from her walk.

She seems to have sensed Emma's hesitation. "I tried to go to bed, but I couldn't sleep." Emma stays silent, willing her to continue. "I just…I wasn't sure about the way we left things earlier."

Emma nods. She has been dreading this conversation since she revealed Henry's vision for her role in his fairy tale, but she is also glad she hasn't scared Mary Margaret off with the knowledge that a daughter she doesn't remember might be standing in front of her.

It's hard for her to reconcile her own feelings about the possibility of Mary Margaret being her mother. She has been searching for over twenty years for her parents, and now it feels like the answer, however fanciful, has been thrust in her face. It's hard for her to resent the woman standing in front of her, the woman who gave her the spare room to prevent her from sleeping in her car, for not looking for a daughter she didn't even remember.

"I know you've been searching your whole life for your parents," Mary Margaret begins tentatively. "And you're still looking for answers. I just…I don't know if you're going to find them with me."

"It's just something Henry said," Emma begins quickly. "It doesn't have to be true. I mean, the whole thing is crazy, right? It assumes a lot. You as Snow White, the curse…I'm not sure I believe any of it either."

"You will find your parents someday, Emma," Mary Margaret says, smiling gently. "After all, Henry found you."

Emma smiles back. "Thanks." She nods toward the direction of her room. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

She's almost reached the bedroom door when Mary Margaret speaks again. "Hey, Emma?"

She turns. "Yeah?"

"Just so you know…whoever I am, whoever you are, I'm really glad that you're here."

_iv. _

She enters the room to find Mary Margaret lying on the bed. Even from behind her, Emma can tell she has been crying. Slowly she sets her coat down and approaches her. She vacillates for a moment, unsure of what to say, what she should do.

"Do you feel like talking about it yet?" Emma asks gently.

"Nope," comes the sniffling reply.

She considers this for a moment, then asks, "You want to be alone?"

There's a slight pause, and then Mary Margaret whispers again, "Nope."

Emma crosses over to the bed and sinks down. She is somewhat grateful Mary Margaret doesn't want to talk about it yet; she doesn't know what she would say. She has been in several relationships with men, most of which ended poorly, but she learned at sixteen to build a tough skin. She looks over at Mary Margaret, huddled in what is practically the fetal position, and Emma wonders how many times her heart has been broken.

This is probably the first.

There's something about watching her cry that is deeply moving, though she doesn't understand why. Emma usually has little patience for tears, and truth be told, she's had little experience with them, since the only person she ever has to comfort is herself. But Mary Margaret is a friend, one of her only in the world, let alone Storybrooke, and she can feel her own heart aching as she watches her cry. Emma finds herself thinking about the night Graham died, how Mary Margaret sat with her the entire night. She remembers the soothing hand on her back, a quiet gesture of comfort, of support, for which no more words were needed.

She rolls over on her side so that she is directly behind Mary Margaret. Emma hesitates and then slowly reaches out her hand and rests it on her shoulder. A moment later, she feels her hand being grasped and she tightens her grip around Mary Margaret's hand as a new wave of tears begins. Emma scoots closer to her on the bed so that her head is almost pressed up against the back of Mary Margaret's neck.

Eventually the crying subsides and the room is filled with silence. She feels Mary Margaret's hand relaxing in hers and wonders if she has cried herself to sleep. Just when she's about to leave, Mary Margaret breaks the silence.

"Emma?" Her voice is still thick with tears.

"I'm here," she whispers back.

"I just wanted you to know…I know Henry thinks I'm supposed to be your mother, but today…" Mary Margaret draws a shaky breath. "Today you feel like mine."

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><p><strong>AN:** First time writing in this fandom...how did I do? Please review!


	2. Comfort

__**Disclaimer:** I own nothing you recognize.

**A/N:** Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter or added this story to their favorites or alerts list. Your words of encouragement have truly been inspiring, and are the reason I decided to continue. This chapter contains spoilers for episodes 1x06, 1x11, and 1x14.

Much thanks to Melissa for betaing!

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><p><em>i. <em>

It's nearing two in the morning when the heavy knocking on the door pulls her from sleep. For a moment she thinks she's only imagined it, but when it increases in volume, she realizes she can't ignore it any longer. Emma swings her legs off the bed, pulling a sweatshirt over her white tank top as she pads down the hallway and opens the door.

"Dr. Whale?" she says in surprise, her eyebrows knitting together. "And…ah."

"I believe this belongs to you," he drawls. She can smell the liquor on his breath from here.

"Hi, Emma," Mary Margaret says sheepishly. "Did we wake you?"

"It's okay," Emma answers, stepping aside to allow them in. Mary Margaret practically falls into her arms the minute Dr. Whale lets go. "How much did she drink?" she asks.

"Too many," he grumbles.

"It was so much fun, Emma," Mary Margaret giggles.

"I'm sure it was," Emma assures her. "I'll take it from here," she tells Dr. Whale, who is clearly too far gone to be any help at all. "Thanks for bringing her home." She swings the door shut in his face.

"Are you hungry?" Mary Margaret asks eagerly. "I could make pancakes!"

"No, that's okay. I'm not hungry." She half-leads, half-carries Mary Margaret into her bedroom. The minute she sees her bed, Mary Margaret collapses onto the mattress. Emma watches her uncertainly, wondering what to do. She tries to remember the last time she took care of someone drunk and realizes it was her first week of freshman year, when her roommate came back at four in the morning completely wasted.

She left her roommate alone and slept in the hall the entire night. It didn't matter. She withdrew from the school two months later.

But she can't abandon Mary Margaret, she thinks. It's a school night – or a school morning, as it were – which doesn't matter so much to her, but should matter a lot to Mary Margaret. Emma is suddenly horrified at the thought of Henry seeing Mary Margaret hung over, or worse still drunk, at the front of the classroom tomorrow.

"Emma?"

She looks down at Mary Margaret's expectant face. "Yes?"

"I'm tired."

"I know," she says. "Here." She opens a drawer and pulls out a pair of pajamas, which she deposits on the bed. "Put these on. I'll be right back."

When she returns from the kitchen two minutes later, a box of wheat cereal and glass of water in hand, she finds Mary Margaret dressed and sitting up on the bed, waiting for her.

"Here," Emma says, handing the box and glass to her. "Eat this, and drink that. You'll feel much better tomorrow morning if you do."

"You're the best, Emma," she gushes. "You're like my knight in shining armor. A real Prince Charming."

Emma sits down next to her and reaches for the cereal. "Yeah," she replies. "Something like that."

_ii. _

"Damn it!"

"Emma?"

"Damn it!"

"Emma, what's wrong?" Mary Margaret comes rushing into view. "Did something happen? Are you all right?"

"_Damn it!_" Emma repeats, slamming her bag onto the chair.

"Why do you keep _saying _that?"

"Sorry. I thought I was alone."

"Oh…" Mary Margaret falters. "Well, I could, um, leave. Is that what you want?"

"No," Emma responds. "Yes. No – no." She pushes her bag off the chair and sinks down in its place. "I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mary Margaret asks as she pulls out the chair beside Emma and sits down. "What happened?"

Emma sighs heavily. "I don't know."

After a moment, Mary Margaret begins quietly, "Does that mean you don't know if you want to talk about it, or you do but don't know what happened?"

Emma considers her. Mary Margaret is clearly uncertain, uncomfortable because she does not know what to do. Emma knows she's not making it easy for her, but she's never been one for talking about her problems. Or maybe, she thinks – even admits – she's just never had anyone to talk to before.

"I messed up," she says at last.

"How bad?" Mary Margaret asks, and Emma does not miss the lack of judgment in her tone.

"Bad," Emma admits. "I tried to go after Regina, and it backfired on me."

"What happened?"

"I…accused her of spending the town's money on a villa in the woods. Turns out it was a playground for the children. Not exactly Sheriff of the Year material."

Mary Margaret bites her lower lip. "So…you're not sheriff anymore?"

Emma laughs bitterly. "No, I'm still sheriff."

"Then what did she do to you when she found out?"

She sighs and turns to Mary Margaret almost sheepishly. It suddenly feels like she's eight years old again, relaying a recess incident to the principal. Or telling her foster parents how she'd ended up in trouble again and what the punishment would be this time. "She forbade me from seeing Henry."

Mary Margaret gasps. "Oh no! For how long?"

Emma shrugs. "As long as she wants, I guess."

"Oh, Emma-"

"I don't-" Emma interrupts, and then realizes from Mary Margaret's shocked expression that her tone was too harsh. She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she says, "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Mary Margaret stares at her for a moment and then nods. "Okay." She turns to go, but then says, "Do you want to take your mind off it? We could make cupcakes. Or I could make them, and you could-"

She doesn't feel like cupcakes, but suggests, "Can't we just drink instead?"

Mary Margaret grins. "Drinks it is."

_iii. _

"Emma!" Mary Margaret calls excitedly. "Emma, where are you? I have wonderful news!"

Emma sighs as she pulls herself up into a sitting position on the bed. Her day has been exhausting and emotionally draining. She isn't ready to face Mary Margaret yet, not with this news, which she knows will destroy her, and especially not now when Mary Margaret is so happy. But she knows she has to, because she promised him that she would, and she does not want to break that promise.

Before she can open the door, it flings open and Mary Margaret appears. Her face is flushed, her eyes shining. "We sold them! We sold them all!"

"What?" Emma says blankly, standing aside to let Mary Margaret in. "All of what?"

"The candles!" she exclaims, as she sits down on Emma's bed. "Leroy did it, he actually did it!"

"That's great," Emma supplies. "That's really great news for the nunnery."

Mary Margaret's smile falters. "What's wrong?"

Emma hesitates, unsure if she should lie and say nothing, put off this conversation until tomorrow, but she doubts she can get away with it. Mary Margaret will find out anyway, she knows. Better if it comes from her than Regina. She steels herself, walking slowly over to Mary Margaret, and then joins her on the bed.

"It's David," Emma says.

"What about him?" Mary Margaret's tone is worried.

Emma swallows. "I…I had to arrest him."

Mary Margaret's mouth drops and she simply stares. Finally she asks, "Is it because of Kathryn? You think he did something?"

"I don't think that," Emma insists.

"But you arrested him," Mary Margaret counters. She suddenly stands and begins to pace. "You must have a – a reason or you think…Oh, Emma! You don't really think that –"

"No," Emma assures her. "I don't think he had anything to do with this. But the evidence is telling me another story."

"Evidence?" Mary Margaret stops pacing and looks at her. "What evidence?"

"I can't get into that now," Emma responds. "But I do think he's being set up."

Mary Margaret sinks onto the bed, looking utterly defeated. "Poor David," she sighs. "He must be so worried. Is he – are you keeping him over night?" Emma nods, and Mary Margaret gasps. "Oh, how horrible!"

"I know," she agrees. "I'm going to talk to him first thing in the morning. We _will_ get to the bottom of this."

"Can I see him?" Mary Margaret asks.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Emma responds hesitantly. "People might get the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea?"

Emma vacillates, unsure how many of her concerns she wants to voice aloud. It's not that she thinks Mary Margaret – or David – had anything to do with Kathryn's disappearance, but she fears what the evidence is telling her, how far someone (and she has an idea who) would go to make them look extremely guilty. She can't stop whoever is trying to set up Mary Margaret, but she can at least prevent her from looking guiltier.

"Emma?"

"It's just that…" She pauses, trying to frame her words as delicately as possible. "Look, you know what people in this town think of you…of the affair." Mary Margaret opens her mouth to protest, but Emma barrels on, "And I don't agree with any of it, you know that. But _someone_ is trying to make David look guilty. And I'm worried that the same might happen to you…and if I let you talk to him, people might think that you're, I don't know, getting your story straight or something."

"But that's ridiculous!" Mary Margaret exclaims. "You know I didn't do anything!"

"Please, Mary Margaret," Emma says. "Try to understand it from their point of view. I'm just trying to explain why someone might be suspicious. I'm…I'm scared for you."

"You're scared for me?" she repeats.

"Yeah," Emma admits, "I am."

Mary Margaret faces her and takes her hand. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

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><p><strong>AN:** I plan to continue posting new chapters of this story periodically. Each chapter will be a set of vignettes that are missing Emma/Mary Margaret scenes from episodes. I am **so **excited about all of the awesome new material that the most recent episodes (specifically 1x16-18) have given me - we are finally getting some great Emma/Mary Margaret interaction and material! My next set will probably all be scenes related to Mary Margaret's arrest, and I am super excited to delve into that. So in the meantime, give my muse some food for thought and please review!


	3. Safe

__**Disclaimer:** I unfortunately own nothing that you recognize.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who submitted a review last time. I am very blessed to have so many people enjoying this story! This set of vignettes is all based on 1x17 (the Mad Hatter episode), which was a treasure trove of MM/Emma inspiration. I know I promised arrest vignettes, and those are coming, I promise, but this set just begged to be written! I think this is my favorite set so far, so I really hope you enjoy.

Thanks to Melissa, my brainable beta, for her always braintastic work.

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><p><em>i.<em>

_I'd rather lose my job than my friend._

Emma repeats the words she said to Mr. Gold over and over in her head as she drives into the woods. She knows she means them, a hundred times over, but she cannot help feeling betrayed. After she asked – practically begged – Mary Margaret to trust her, Mary Margaret had fled.

Emma understands fear, she understands fight or flight, and she knows how compelling the impulse to run can be. She knows she's done enough of that for a lifetime. And she's not judging Mary Margaret's decision to escape (though how that happened, she still isn't sure), but she is hurt that she wasn't at least given a head's up.

She tries not to think about Henry's warning about the curse. As much as she wants to believe someone could leave Storybrooke unharmed, she cannot help but think about Kathryn's attempt to leave, or even her own attempt to leave so long ago. Of course Mary Margaret knows nothing of the curse, about what happens to people who try to leave Storybrooke, but Emma is afraid of what she may find.

_I'd rather lose my job than my friend._

But she might die if she loses both.

_ii._

Emma pushes the door open slowly and peers out into the hall. The coast seems to be clear, though she doesn't know how they're going to get out. She looks back at Mary Margaret and urges her forward in a whisper.

She holds Mary Margaret's arm as she steps out into the hallway. She can feel her shaking with fear, one hand over her mouth, perhaps to keep from crying out. As Emma pulls the door shut behind them, she changes position so that she is standing in front of Mary Margaret, shielding her. She's not even sure why she's doing it – instinct, mostly. Even stripped down to a tank top and jeans, sans gun or any other form of protection, she still feels like her training as a bounty hunter or a sheriff should count for something.

The click of the gun causes her to freeze. Full of dread, she turns toward the source of the sound.

"I see you found Spot." Jefferson does not sound surprised.

"I've already called for back-up," Emma says with confidence she does not feel. "Be here any second."

"No, they won't," Jefferson replies smugly, "you haven't called anybody. For the same reason you didn't tell me about her. You don't want anybody to know you're here. Which means, nobody does."

Emma considers her options, though they're clearly limited. He's holding a gun, she has nothing. Plus she has Mary Margaret, and she cannot bear the thought of him hurting her. Which is why his next words cut through her like a knife.

"So now tie her back up."

_iii._

She hates herself. All she can think, all she can feel, is hatred radiating through her body as she fumbles with the knots. She hates Jefferson for putting her in this situation, she hates this situation, but most of all she hates herself for what she's about to do.

Emma tries to look anywhere but at Mary Margaret's scared face. She has felt Mary Margaret's eyes on her the entire time. She's ashamed of what she's doing, but she knows she has no choice. She cannot explain now, but she hopes that Mary Margaret will understand. Somehow the fact she has no choice doesn't make her feel any better.

She keeps her touch soft around Mary Margaret's neck as she ties the gag as gently as possible. Ever conscious of Jefferson's looming presence in the doorway, she realizes that it's time. She stares at Mary Margaret, trying to communicate comfort, hope – anything but fear. She's not sure the message is coming across, but knows she can no longer delay the inevitable. Carefully she pulls up on the gag, but Mary Margaret's whimper stops her.

"Emma."

She can feel her own heart pounding as she whispers, "It's going to be okay."

She knows her words do nothing to alleviate Mary Margaret's fear. Tears do not fall, but she suspects they are coming. If she were being honest, she would allow herself to feel her own tears brimming. But she keeps them back because she doesn't want Mary Margaret to be afraid, because Emma wants her to trust that she is going to keep a straight head and get them out of this.

She wants to be someone Mary Margaret can count on. She has to be.

Perhaps her words are comforting because Mary Margaret opens her mouth obediently to accept the gag. Emma slips it between her teeth and Mary Margaret bites down. Their eyes are locked as Emma slides her hands behind Mary Margaret's head to adjust the gag. She tries to leave it as loose as she can so it will be as comfortable as possible. It's the least she can do.

She holds Mary Margaret's gaze for a long time and then forces herself to stand up and turn away.

"Your telescope," she says to Jefferson. "You've been watching me. Why?"

He moves toward her and grabs her arm. "I need you to do something for me." He tightens his grip around her arm and practically drags her from the room. She doesn't protest because she doesn't want to make it worse, but her body tenses at the sound of Mary Margaret's cries.

Even through the gag, her words are clear. They increase in volume and pitch as the door swings shut. And as Jefferson marches her down the hall, she has to try even harder to keep her tears at bay because Mary Margaret was screaming aloud what her heart had been protesting the entire time.

_No, Emma._

_iv._

Jefferson's face is inches from hers when he asks, "You believe?"

She doesn't know what she believes at this point. Grace or Paige…Jefferson or the Mad Hatter…or both. All she knows is that she's finally figured out how to get them out of this.

She stares at him. "If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother."

As soon as she says it, Emma realizes it's the first time she's said these words aloud. Not even when she told Mary Margaret that Henry thought she was Snow White's daughter did she explicitly call Mary Margaret her mother. As unprepared as she was for this moment, she's even more unprepared for the sudden wave of emotion that comes over her. She hasn't intended to tell Jefferson anything more than that, but suddenly she finds herself saying things she's never told anyone before, let alone admitted to herself.

"And I want to believe that more than anything in the world."

_v._

She's relieved to find the keys on the front seat of her car because the idea of being stranded out here at this creepy mansion is less than appealing. But as she walks back to where Mary Margaret is waiting, she realizes that this is it. The keys mean she has a way to get back, and an obligation to take Mary Margaret back with her. And although she doesn't want her to run, Emma cannot help but think that she wouldn't be a true friend unless she helped her escape.

Mary Margaret catches sight of the keys in her hand. "Well, Sheriff, I guess you'll be taking me back now."

She makes the decision in the split second it takes for her to toss the keys to Mary Margaret. "Here. Go."

"You want me to run?"

"_No_," Emma answers. "But it's your choice." She thinks about everything she would have told Mary Margaret, if she'd known about the key under the pillow. She was upset before because she did not have the opportunity to influence this decision, but now she does. "Just know something," she begins. "Running ain't easy, I've done my share of it. And once you go, there's no stopping."

"Emma, everyone thinks I killed Kathryn-"

"Mary Margaret, you have to believe me. You have to trust me!" Emma insists. "I know it seems impossible, but I can get you out of this."

"Why's it so important to you what happens to me?"

"Because when Regina framed me, and you bailed me out, I asked you why and you said you trusted me." The words come quickly now, her stream of consciousness voiced aloud. She's been asking herself that same question over and over, but only now will she finally allow herself to answer. "And then when I wanted to leave Storybrooke because I thought that's what was best for Henry, you told me I needed to stay because that's what's best for him. I realized all my life I have been alone. Walls up." She chokes back tears, forcing herself not to cry. "_Nobody_'s ever been there for me except for you. And I can't lose that, I can't lose my family."

Mary Margaret stares at her for a moment, and then whispers, "Family?" There is no mistaking the hopeful smile that breaks across her face.

"Friends," Emma quickly amends, averting her eyes."Whatever. You know what I mean." She's never been good at confessions, so she brings the conversation back to a more practical concern. "Wouldn't you rather face this together than alone?"

Mary Margaret considers this, and then extends her hand. As Emma reaches for the keys, Mary Margaret's hand clasps down around hers. She can feel the warmth radiating between them, the unspoken promise and commitment. Friends, family, it's all the same to her, because Emma knows it's all she has.

And as Mary Margaret smiles at her, Emma thinks that maybe, just maybe, one day she'll believe that she's truly meant to be a part of Snow White's family, too.

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><p><strong>AN:** Please review, I'd love to know what you thought! The next chapter _will_ be the arrest vignettes, which I have already started writing. I hope to have them posted before or around the time when the next episode airs.


	4. Faith

**Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine.

**A/N:** This took a bit longer than I had expected to finish - sorry about that. Thank you to everyone who reviews, or favorites, or puts on alert this story. It really makes my day.

Thanks to Melissa for betaing, even though she forgets lots of words.

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><p><em>i.<em>

Emma is silent on the ride back to the station. She glances in the rearview mirror at Mary Margaret, who is sitting with her head down in the backseat. Emma would have much preferred to transport Mary Margaret in her own car, but the squad car has to be used for official arrests.

She still can't believe she's doing this. There is no doubt in her mind that Mary Margaret is innocent. It feels like betrayal even to go through the motions of the arrest. But Emma knows she has to. If she doesn't, Regina will call favoritism and fire her. And make sure Mary Margaret is convicted.

She cannot let that happen.

"Emma."

Emma looks back at the sound of Mary Margaret's voice. A lone tear trails down her cheek.

"Emma, please."

Emma closes her eyes as she pulls the car into her parking spot. "I'm so sorry."

"Emma, please, you don't have to do this," Mary Margaret begs her. "You know that I didn't kill Kathryn – I couldn't."

"I know," she assures her.

"But why don't you believe me?" Mary Margaret sounds horrified.

"Mary Margaret, I do believe you!" Emma replies fiercely. She turns all the way around in her seat so she can look at Mary Margaret's face. Mary Margaret is looking back at her, the hurt plainly reflected in her eyes. Emma remembers the last time she has seen Mary Margaret look like this, the night that she found out David lied to Kathryn, the last time Mary Margaret felt betrayed.

"I do believe you," she repeats. She looks directly at Mary Margaret as she asks, "Do you trust me?"

Mary Margaret hesitates, and Emma thinks the thirty seconds it takes for her to respond last forever.

Finally, Mary Margaret nods. "With my life."

_ii._

Emma surveys the holding cell in front of her desk. She's definitely seen worse, but she's sure that Mary Margaret hasn't. A sideways glance confirms her suspicions. Mary Margaret looks terrified of the very thought of sleeping in the tiny cell.

"I know it's not much," Emma begins, unsure what to say.

"No, it's not much," Mary Margaret agrees.

"It's just for a short while," Emma says bracingly. "And I could, um, bring some things from home to cheer the place up."

Mary Margaret gives her a skeptical look. "Do you do that for all your prisoners?"

"No," Emma admits, "but you're also my first one."

_And it's _you.

_iii._

Emma grips the iron bars tightly, steadying herself, bracing herself for what she's about to say. "I know Mr. Gold doesn't want us to talk," she begins, "but I thought you should hear this from me." Mary Margaret looks up from the coffee cup in her hands and Emma swallows hard, fully aware that what she's about to say is only going to hurt. "The test results came back on the heart. And the DNA was a match for Kathryn." Mary Margaret turns away, as Emma whispers, "She's dead."

She waits for a response, but Mary Margaret gives none. Emma moves along the bars so she's as close to Mary Margaret as she can get.

Emma sighs deeply, hating what she's about to say, dreading Mary Margaret's reaction. "I'm sorry. For a lot of things. But now that we have proof of the death, we have enough evidence to move forward with the case against you. It's gonna happen."

When Mary Margaret still refuses to look at her, Emma feels a sudden sense of despair. It seems ridiculous, perhaps, since she is not at fault, but she feels personally responsible for Mary Margaret's predicament. She _knows _that something else is going on here, and she's desperate to find out what it is. Emma may not be the one imprisoned, but she feels just as trapped. She doesn't know who to go to for support, because her only support system is locked in a cage right in front of her.

"You know I _do_ believe you, right?" Emma feels like she's asked this question so many times, but she wouldn't be surprised if Mary Margaret answered no. It must be getting harder to understand why Emma would keep her in jail if she truly believed her; Emma knows her words and actions say two different things. But she has a reason, she knows she has basically no choice, but the knowledge doesn't make her feel any better. All she can do is hope that Mary Margaret understands.

"All this evidence tells me one thing for certain: that you are being framed. And I think Regina's behind it."

This catches Mary Margaret's attention. She immediately rises and walks to the edge of the cell, directly in front of Emma.

"Then why am I still in here?" she demands. "Why don't you confront her?"

"Because belief is not proof."

"But you just said-"

"If I don't do this right, it could end up worse for you." Emma can hear the desperation in her voice now, in her attempts to make Mary Margaret understand. "Every time I've gone up against Regina, she's seen it coming and I've lost."

"So what makes this time any different?"

"Because she doesn't know I suspect anything," Emma answers.

"Why would she do this to me?" she wonders aloud.

"I don't know," Emma admits, "but I'm going to find out. And I promise, I won't stop until I expose what she's up to."

"And how are you going to do that?" Mary Margaret whispers, discouraged. "This is her town."

"I'm working on it," Emma replies, all too aware of the inadequacy of her reply. If she cannot find a way past Regina…she doesn't want to think about it. "I have faith in you," she tells her. "And now I need you to have faith in me."

Emma reaches up and covers Mary Margaret's hand with hers. Mary Margaret suddenly turns to her, and Emma can see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Can you do that?"

Mary Margaret nods and squeezes Emma's hand. "Of course."

_iv._

"Emma. _Emma._"

Emma's eyes snap open and she bolts upright from her desk. "Who's there?"

"It's just me," Mary Margaret answers. "You fell asleep again."

Emma sighs and glances at the clock. It's almost midnight. She hasn't left the office all day, and her day began at seven that morning. She stretches and rubs the sleep from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she says as she stands. "I'll just get some more coffee."

"Emma," Mary Margaret says gently. "Go to bed."

"I'll be fine."

"Emma," Mary Margaret repeats. "Please. Go home and go to bed. I'm worried about you."

Emma pours the remaining coffee into the only clean mug she can finde. The dark brown liquid barely fills half the mug, and she doesn't have any more. She tries not to think about the fact that she's gone through an entire container in less than three days. Every waking moment since Mary Margaret's return has been devoted to finding proof of her innocence, and Emma refuses to let something like sleep get in the way.

"Damn," she mutters, setting down the empty pot. She takes a sip, realizing that the coffee is barely even lukewarm. She can feel Mary Margaret's eyes on her as she gulps down the rest.

"You know where there's warm coffee?" Mary Margaret begins once Emma has finished.

Emma walks over and takes up her familiar perch on the couch right outside of the cell. "For the last time, Mary Margaret, I'm not going home. Not until I find something."

"But you can't find anything if you're tired," she points out. "Just go home for a few hours and get some sleep." Mary Margaret reaches for Emma's hand. "Emma," she murmurs, squeezing her hand. "I really appreciate what you're doing. It means the world to me. But-" Emma looks up, meeting Mary Margaret's concerned gaze. "—I could never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me."

Emma smiles weakly. "I know, and thank you. But nothing is going to happen." She tries to draw back, to return to her desk, her work, but Mary Margaret's grip on her hand tightens.

"Please," Mary Margaret whispers. "For me." When Emma hesitates, she suggests, "Why don't you sleep here tonight?"

"Aren't I already doing that?"

"No," Mary Margaret answers. "Not at your desk. I mean here. In my bed."

"Mary Margaret-"

"I don't need it," she presses. "Really. I can sleep all day. But you need to sleep tonight, and I want you to sleep here."

Emma shakes her head. "That's very generous, but I can't. It's not right…I'm sheriff, this is a holding cell. If Regina catches us-"

"She won't," Mary Margaret insists. "I'll keep watch. And I'll wake you up right at seven. She'll never know."

"I don't know," Emma sighs. She closes her eyes, surprised by how good it feels. She knows she needs to sleep, somewhere…and if she could sleep here without Regina finding out…

"Six thirty," she says finally, opening her eyes.

"What?"

"Wake me up at six thirty," Emma explains. "I want to go home to shower and change my clothes."

Mary Margaret smiles. "Six thirty."

_v._

She has never felt like more of a failure than she does in this moment.

Mary Margaret's expectant face is more than she can bear, and it's the first thing Emma sees when she enters the office. Guilt weighs heavily on her chest as she sets her wallet and car keys on the desk and heads over to Mary Margaret's cell.

"Emma?"

She sinks down on the edge of the familiar blue couch, unable to speak.

"Emma, what's wrong?"

The concern is so obvious in Mary Margaret's voice that it hurts.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers. She lets the words hang between them, waits for them to sink in.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. "But you said-"

"I was wrong," Emma says, her voice catching in her throat. "I – we – found something, but when I went back with a warrant, it was gone." She leans forward, reaching for Mary Margaret's hand. "I'm so sorry," she repeats. She feels numb, delivering the next words in a voice than is not her own. "The trial begins today."

"Without evidence, it'll be over today, too," Mary Margaret points out, and there is no mistaking the fear in her tone.

Emma can only squeeze her hand. "It's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Mary Margaret says, shaking her head.

"No," Emma agrees, "but I still have faith in you."

Mary Margaret considers this in silence for a long time before whispering, "I still have faith in you, too."

She wonders if Mary Margaret has any idea how much that means to her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading, I'd love a review! Next chapter will be the last, and it will feature scenes from the last four episodes (1x19-finale). Expect it to be posted sometime after the finale. In the meantime, enjoy what's sure to be an action-packed end of the season!


	5. Motherhood

**Disclaimer: **As always, nothing you recognize is mine.

**A/N:** As promised, here is the final set of vignettes, featuring Mary Margaret and Emma moments from the last four episodes. The finale committed a serious crime by not having ANY Mary Margaret/Emma interaction...so I had to come up with some on my own.

Much thanks to my amazing Melissa, who helped me not write about zebras.

* * *

><p><em>i. <em>

"I'm sorry in advance for the mess," Emma says as she parks the car outside their apartment. "I wasn't expecting you to be released so quickly."

"Don't worry," Mary Margaret brushes her apology aside. "A little mess never hurt anyone."

"Well…" Emma thinks about the preparations for the welcome home party that are already underway. She hadn't been expecting Mary Margaret for at least a few more hours. The floor is littered with construction paper, cutouts of letters and forgone attempts. She hopes she remembered to turn off the oven.

Mary Margaret rushes inside as soon as the door swings open. "Oh, Emma!" Mary Margaret exclaims. "You did all this for me?"

"Yeah," Emma says, feeling sheepish. She's not used to throwing parties and her first attempt seems inadequate, especially since it's not finished by the time the guest of honor has arrived. She wanted everything to be perfect for Mary Margaret's return.

But Mary Margaret is smiling. "You're very kind, Emma." She goes over to the table and examines the decorations. "What time is everyone supposed to get here?"

"I told people seven," Emma answers.

"Well, then," Mary Margaret says, her tone suddenly all business. "Looks like we have three hours to finish."

"Oh – no," Emma protests. "You can't prepare your own welcome home party!"

Mary Margaret just smiles and picks up a pair of scissors. "It feels good to be back."

Emma smiles back. "Welcome home, Mary Margaret."

_ii._

Emma deposits two large boxes of files on the kitchen table. She shrugs off her jacket and immediately begins looking through the contents of the first box. She begins to pull out the stacks of files, arranging them methodically on the table.

"What's all this?" Mary Margaret asks.

"Paperwork," Emma responds. She finishes with the first box and tosses it aside.

"Paperwork?" Mary Margaret repeats, joining Emma at the table. She reaches for one of the files. "You're going after Regina?"

"I'm taking back my son," Emma replies, pulling out another thick file from her bag.

"That's…ambitious."

Emma drops the last file on the table. "Ambitious?" she repeats. "Not exactly the response I was hoping for. You don't think I should?"

"No!" Mary Margaret exclaims. "I absolutely think that you should. I'm just surprised that you decided to do it now. What changed your mind?"

"You," Emma answers. "Regina framed you for murder. I can't let Henry stay with her. That woman is a sociopath."

"Emma," Mary Margaret begins. "Don't make this about revenge. Regina may have hurt you by framing me, but hurting her by trying to take Henry isn't going to help anyone. It's only going to hurt Henry."

"She's dangerous," Emma protests.

"I know," Mary Margaret agrees, nodding. "But being Henry's mom…it's a big step."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that fighting for custody should be about more than hurting Regina. If you win, you become Henry's mother."

"I already _am_ Henry's mother," Emma replies fiercely.

"Biologically, yes," Mary Margaret says. "But emotionally, I'm not so sure."

Emma crosses her arms. "My son is in danger. I'm trying to protect him. If that means I have to step up and be his mother, then I'll be his mother."

"Motherhood should be about love," Mary Margaret says quietly. "Not obligation."

"Regina doesn't love him."

"Maybe not," Mary Margaret agrees. "But you should ask yourself…do you?"

Emma doesn't respond, but Mary Margaret smiles anyway. "I'm proud of you for taking this step. I just want you to be sure you're ready. That's all. Just remember, not so long ago, you weren't even sure you could handle a roommate."

_iii._

She cannot remember ever feeling this way before.

"And running is what's best for him?" Mary Margaret is arguing, her tone rising with anger. "Or is that what's best for _you_? You're reverting, Emma. Into the person you were before you got here. And I thought you'd changed."

The disappointment in Mary Margaret's voice is almost too much to bear. Emma can't meet her eyes as she mutters, "You thought wrong."

"Well, regardless," Mary Margaret continues, returning to her cooking. "You have to do what's right for Henry now."

Emma looks up. "What's that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mary Margaret says. "_You're _his mother. That's _your_ job. So you figure it out."

She cannot remember ever feeling this way before, like she's being scolded, as though by a mother.

_iv._

Emma knows Mary Margaret is awake because she can see the light underneath the door. She hesitates before knocking, precariously balancing the two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Come in," Mary Margaret responds, once Emma finally knocks. Emma pushes the door open.

Mary Margaret is sitting cross-legged on the bed, a book across her lap. She sets it aside when Emma enters, but she does not speak or even smile as Emma moves toward her. Emma senses that Mary Margaret is waiting for her to make the first move.

"Peace offering?" Emma extends one of the mugs.

"Thank you," Mary Margaret says, although Emma can tell from her tone that she has not yet been forgiven.

"Do you mind if I…?"

"Please." Mary Margaret nods. "Sit down."

Emma sinks down on the edge of Mary Margaret's bed, careful not to spill any hot chocolate on the white duvet. She can't even remember the last time she felt this awkward around Mary Margaret. Making friends has never been one of Emma's strong suits, let alone keeping them. She realizes this is the first time in years she has made a conscious effort to repair a relationship that she damaged.

"I'm sorry," she says finally, figuring that's the best place to start.

"For what?" Mary Margaret prompts her, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.

"For…leaving," Emma offers. "For not saying goodbye."

"You're sorry you left, or you're sorry you didn't say goodbye to me first?"

"Both," Emma answers. "I shouldn't have left at all. But I definitely shouldn't have left without saying goodbye."

"I don't understand you, Emma," Mary Margaret says, shaking her head. "After everything you did for me, after you convinced me not to run…why would you?"

Emma looks down at her mug, ashamed. "I don't know."

"You're scared, I understand that," Mary Margaret continues. "You don't think Henry is safe with Regina, and I don't blame you. I can understand why you might think running away with him is a good idea. It's a mother's impulse. You want to protect your son."

Emma nods earnestly. She opens her mouth to respond, but Mary Margaret cuts her off.

"But what I do _not _understand is why you feel the need to do absolutely everything alone." Mary Margaret looks at her sharply.

"All my life I've been alone," Emma mutters.

"You're not alone now."

Emma meets Mary Margaret's eyes. "I know that now. But it'll take some time for me to get used to it. There's never been more than just me. There's never been an us."

"You better get used to it," Mary Margaret tells her, although her tone is warmer. "Henry and I aren't going anywhere."

Emma nods. "Neither am I."

_v._

"Emma!"

Emma looks up to see Mary Margaret running toward her. "I came as soon as I heard your message," she says breathlessly. "Is he still-?"

"Yes," Emma answers. "But they're not sure what's wrong."

"Is someone with him now?"

Emma nods. "Regina. She's saying goodbye."

"Saying goodbye?" Mary Margaret repeats. "But I thought you said he was still-"

"He is," Emma assures her. _But we have to be prepared for the worst._

Mary Margaret frowns. "Are you…going somewhere?"

Emma hesitates slightly before responding, "Regina and I are going to find something she thinks will help Henry."

"You and Regina?" Mary Margaret's frown deepens. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Yes." She sighs. "It's also our only idea."

"Oh, Emma, please be careful! I don't trust her at all."

"Neither do I," Emma admits. "But I do think she cares about Henry and truly wants to help him."

"Okay," Mary Margaret says, though she still sounds skeptical. Then she takes Emma's hand. "I'll stay here with him," she promises. "He won't be alone."

Emma smiles and whispers, "Thank you." She looks down at their hands, struck by the realization that this is the first time she has touched her, truly believing that Mary Margaret is her mother. The knowledge is overwhelming, and she wants to say something, to let Mary Margaret know that no matter what happens, she knows she had a mother.

"Mary Margaret, I-"

But her voice is overcome by emotion, and the words die in her throat. She cannot tell Mary Margaret. Not here, not like this. She has to remember that just because she believes in the curse, not everyone else does. Not yet, anyway. But they will.

"Emma?"

Emma looks up and forces a smile. She can feel the tears in her eyes, and knows Mary Margaret can see them, too.

"If anything happens-"

Mary Margaret squeezes her hand and promises, "I will find you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** A warm and heartfelt thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, put on alert, added to favorite list, etc. Your support has been overwhelming and I am truly thrilled to have such awesome readers in this new fandom. As I stated before, I will be ending this story here, as the season has ended. Of course you can expect more Mary Margaret and Emma moments from me in season 2, but I'm waiting to see where the show goes first! In the meantime, I'm currently contemplating an AU multi-chapter fic that once again features Mary Margaret and Emma front and center. Put me on alert if that's something you're interested in reading!

Please consider leaving a review and telling me your final thoughts. Whether you reviewed all the chapters or just this one, I really do value and appreciate what you think!


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